


Years With You

by FalconEye



Series: The Warlord's Witchers [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Alternate Universe, Asexual Character, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by The Accidental Warlord and His Pack Series - inexplicifics, Romance, Witcher OCs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26663125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalconEye/pseuds/FalconEye
Summary: The Law of Surprise had never steered Veko wrong. Well, ok, that wasn’t exactly true.Veko is a Witcher of the School of the Cat, and when he saves a man while on a contract, he presses his luck one too many times with the Law of Surprise. Turns out, asking for "the first thing you see when you get home" isn't a smart alternative to the traditional "that what you have but do not know," as now he finds himself bound to the man's daughter, Eloise, by destiny. And neither of them are exactly happy about it. But maybe they can make the best of this situation. If Veko's growing feelings don't get in the way.Inspired by and set in the world of The Accidental Warlord and His Pack AU by Inexplicifics.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Female Character
Series: The Warlord's Witchers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940023
Comments: 16
Kudos: 133
Collections: Inspired by inexplicific Accidental Warlord AU





	1. Law of Surprise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inexplicifics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inexplicifics/gifts).
  * Inspired by [With a Conquering Air](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23273713) by [inexplicifics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inexplicifics/pseuds/inexplicifics). 



> Finally posting this! It's been on my tumblr for a while now and never quite got around to posting this here. Whoops. Massive thanks to Inexplicifics for letting me play in her sandbox! I promise I'll clean up before I go lol
> 
> Would love some feedback, whether it's about the writing itself, the characters, or anything else! I already have a couple more chapters of this written as well as another story about Veko's brother started, which I'll post soon too.
> 
> Enjoy!

Many, many years before Geralt of Rivia became the Warlord of the North, there was a Witcher named Veko.

The Law of Surprise had never steered Veko wrong. Well, ok, that wasn’t exactly true. It had never fucked him over, anyway. Well... 

Ok, see, many, many years before the White Wolf began his reign, Veko and his twin brother Hamra had been traveling with the Cat School’s caravan. They always had, ever since becoming Witchers, although they sometimes broke off for hunts either alone or with each other. Siblings were rare among Witchers, twins especially, and identical twins even more so. Plus, Hamra was... gentle—for a Witcher anyway. He hardly made eye contact and often didn’t talk until absolutely necessary for days at a time, often using signs when he didn’t want to (or couldn’t) speak. Veko was used to it, often either being able to decipher his brother’s signs and gestures, or filing in the blanks himself. This also meant he was frequently his brother’s “translator” of sorts. Despite mostly taking hunts together though, Veko, like everyone else in the caravan, needed a break from time to time. Especially from his brother’s guilty looks.

It’s common knowledge that Cats are the more... emotional of all Witchers, prone to mood swings, rages, and the occasional bloodlust. It’s just how the mutagens made them, as much a fact as the sky was blue. Didn’t make it any easier on any of them, though. Veko knew this all too well. 

Although Hamra was quiet, generally incredibly awkward and painfully shy, he too could and had been taken over by his emotions. And unfortunately, Veko was always in the line of fire—literally. The fight had been... stupid. Probably. Now, years later, neither twin can remember what the it was even about, and none of the other Cats were paying enough attention to care. Hamra was too enraged to remember what happened and Veko. Well, Veko, whether he was trying to calm Hamra down or was truly fighting with him, took an Igni to the face at basically point blank range. Sure, the smell of cooking monster was one Witchers eventually got used to, but as it turns out, the smell of your own brother’s flesh burning from his face and neck snaps you out of a rage pretty well. 

Veko was out of commission for quite a while, by Witcher standards. The left side of his face, from under his eye down his neck, and disappearing beneath his armor, was a permanent web of tight, puckered scarring. It wasn’t bad enough to lose his ear or anything, thankfully, and no actual holes in his skin, but it was big and grotesque enough that there was no possible way to hide it unless he covered his entire face. So Hamra had to look at his greatest mistake every time he looked at his brother, and Veko had to deal with the sour smell of guilt pouring off of his brother almost every waking moment.

So, yeah, he needed a break and a solo hunt every once in a while.

This one was about as basic as they get; bunch of drowners terrorizing a local village, no problem. Veko took them out with ease. Or so he thought. Going back to the village to claim his pay, he heard an old man crying for help and realized one of the drowners had broken off from the others. Just great.

The old man and the drowner both were stuck in thick mud, a pathetic sight as the man frantically tried to free himself as the drowner clawed at him. Veko literally walked up next to the creature and decapitating it, yanking the old man out of the mud while still in mid swing. 

“Witcher!” the old man cried, his knees nearly buckling once he was on solid ground. “Oh thank you Witcher! How could I ever repay you?!”

Sheathing his swords, Veko chuckled. “I mean, coin never hurts.”

As Veko wiped the mud from his face, revealing his burns, the man paled. “I-I don’t... I-I don’t have any money on me,” he said. “Please, sir, there must be something else I can give you!“

Veko sighed. “Not a problem,” he said. “How about this—first thing you see when you get home, I’ll take that. I’ve got to get my pay from your village anyway. Why don’t I stop by your house in the morning?”

The old man nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes sir Witcher!” he exclaimed. “I live on the edge of town, just a little farm, the one with the blue roof.”

“Blue roof,” Veko said, squinting at the old man. “Yeah, it’s suits you.”

The old man looked confused, but Veko waved him off and walked back to the village with him. Luckily, the alderman didn’t scrimp him over on pay, but it still wasn’t a great amount. However, despite actually being paid the amount he was promised, the local inn just so _happened_ to be completely full. Whatever, you win some, you lose some. Pocketing his coin, Veko led his horse a little ways out of town and reluctantly set up camp. 

Veko’s horse was a dun gelding, one of the several Law of Surprise claims and other non-coin payments Veko had made over the years. Once, he’d gotten a literal chicken dinner from a family (which he shared with them, godsdamned his bleeding heart). Another time, an old woman he’d saved from a werewolf offered him and Hamra her home for the night, and taught Veko how to knit when he couldn’t sleep. The horse was relatively new, having picked him up from a farmer with a bad wolf problem, and didn’t give two shits about the Witcher. Which was fine by Veko. He wasn’t close with his horses like some Witchers were. This was his eighth horse, appropriately named Eight.

Eight was a bastard of an animal, constantly biting at Veko’s fingers, clothes, weapons—really anything he could reach. He’d also literally kicked Veko in the ass a few times, and once right in the balls, to the entire caravan’s delight. Eight was also a particular fan of loudly chewing the bark off of whatever tree he was tethered to, which made trying to get peace and quiet a bitch. Not-so-secretly, Veko was hoping whatever the old man saw when he got back to his house was a different horse. It was too expensive to buy another one, and despite the fact that he and Eight hated each other, he’d never wish harm upon the animal. He just wanted to be rid of him, that’s all.

But when he arrived at the old man’s home the next day, horse, chicken dinner, knitting lessons—none of it came even close to what was waiting for him.

A petite woman in a pale blue dress covered in splatters of paint slammed the front door open as he approached. Her hair, brunette, was up in an approximation of a bun, but it was hard to tell as it was so messily put together and curled wildly where it escaped. 

Veko saw the exact moment she saw his burn scars, but to his surprise, only faltered for a moment. “Witcher!” she shouted, marching right up to Veko and poking a paint-stained finger to his chest. “You can turn around and leave right now!”

Veko blinked down at her. “Uh, excuse me,” he scoffed, “I came here to get my payment. Who the hell are you?”

“Your bloody _payment_ ,” the girl hissed, throwing her arms out. “Surprise!”

“Eloise!” the old man Veko had saved came rushing out of his house, taking the woman’s hands in his. “Please, Eloise—“

“What in the hell is going on here?!” Veko exclaimed, making the old man flinch but the woman—Eloise—stood her ground.

“You asked my father to give you the first thing he saw when he came home, right?” she snapped. “Well I answered the bloody door, Witcher.”

Veko took a step back and raised his hands in surrender. “Ok, ok, so this is just all a misunderstanding, I get it. I’ll just—“

“No, no!” the old man exclaimed as Veko turned back to his horse. “Please, Witcher, it’s the Law of Surprise, it’s destiny!”

“Fuck destiny,” Eloise spat. Veko had to agree. But the old man was frantic now.

“To-to go against destiny—“ he continued, before breaking off into a hacking coughing fit that actually had Veko concerned the man would drop right there.

Eloise calmed her father down and held him until his coughing subsided. “Please, papa, you’re going to overwhelm yourself.”

“Eloise, my darling,” the man choked out, “this is all my fault, but please, you cannot go against the Law of Surprise!”

Veko watched the two for a moment before clearing his throat. “Maybe—maybe we can work something out,” he said. Obviously the man was only getting more and more worked up as the conversation went on.

Eloise glared at Veko for a moment before crossing her arms. “It’s ok, papa,” she said, still glaring, “I’ll talk with the Witcher and sort this whole thing out.”

“Y-yeah,” Veko said. “Um. Do you wanna...?”

Eloise grabbed him—actually grabbed him, the balls on this woman!—by the arm and dragged him behind the house, towards a small stable and paddock where a few goats were housed.

“Alright, Witcher, listen,” Eloise snapped. “I don’t believe in all this ‘destiny’ bollocks. The Law of Surprise is bullshit.”

“Hey, I’m with you there,” Veko said. “I normally get like livestock or food or stuff like that.”

Eloise sighed and bit at her nail, staring out across the paddock. “My father believes in all of it,” she said. “My mother died when I was young. Destiny, papa always said. It’s garbage. But my father... he’s very old. I need to take care of him. Whether I believed in all that shit or not, Witcher, I cannot come with you.”

“And I don’t want you to!” Veko exclaimed. “I can barely take care of my horse properly, let alone a human. You’d get killed or something. Why would I want you to come with me?”

Eloise scoffed. “I can think of one reason,” she said bitterly. Veko rolled his eyes.

“Oh please, I’ve got two hands and enough coin set aside for that.”

Eloise actually cracked a tiny grin. “Regardless,” she said, “my father isn’t going to let this go. And I don’t want this to work him up anymore than it already has. I’m afraid for his health.”

“What do you suggest?” Veko asked.

Eloise thought for a moment. Veko’s scar started to itch. It always did at awkward moments, or at least it seemed to anyway, and this was about the most awkward situation Veko had ever been in. This woman was actually... strangely intimidating! Veko turned away to scratch at his face, which seemed to break Eloise out of her thoughts.

“Do you... want something for that?” she asked. “We have some salves in the house just... in case we...”

“No, no, that’s fine,” Veko said as she trailed off in thought. After another moment, Eloise suddenly clapped her hands together.

“I’ve got it!” she exclaimed. “I know how we can appease my father and still make this work.”

Veko nodded awkwardly. “That’s... good, yeah. Um—“

“This will be your home,” Eloise interrupted.

“I don’t follow.”

“Simple,” Eloise stuck a finger in the air. “You’re a Witcher—you travel. So you must spend a lot of the money you earn at inns and on food and things.”

“Or I just sleep outside,” Veko cut in. Eloise waved him off.

“We could tell my father that the Surprise you’ve claimed is the right to come here and stay whenever you’re in the area. Or rather, the right to my home as your home.”

“How does that factor you into it, though?” Veko asked. 

“Technically my father saw the house before he saw me,” Eloise replied. “Plus, we could say that I’m a part of the house, that I keep it for you. Or that the house and I are a package deal.”

Veko crossed his arms. “Do you think he’d buy that?”

Eloise crossed her arms back. “He will if you say it.” 

Veko ran a hand through his hair and blew out a puff of air. “This is crazy,” he said. 

“You claimed the Law of Surprise, Witcher,” Eloise snapped, “not me.”

Veko started scratching his scar in earnest now. “Ok, but what about the village? What are they going to say about you being ‘claimed’ by a Witcher?”

“Frankly I don’t give a damn what they think.”

“What if you want to get married someday?”

Eloise guffawed. “See, that’s the other thing,” she said. “I don’t want to get married. Ever. Having a Witcher ‘claim’ me as his would get every man in town to leave me well alone. This helps all of us.”

As Veko thought on it, Eloise slapped his hand away from scratching his face again. At his shocked face, she merely glared back.

“You’re something else, you know that?” he said. Eloise grinned.

“Why, because I’m not afraid of you?” She laughed. “You bleed just like the rest of us, Witcher. So what do you say?”

Eloise held out her hand and for a moment, Veko actually hesitated. Not because of the deal itself, but because this woman was truly unafraid of him, of seemingly anything, and it made him feel... vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to. After a moment, Veko gently took her hand—and wow, she had a hell of a grip for a human woman, too! “Deal,” Veko said. 

“Now to tell my father,” Eloise said, already starting to drag the Witcher back around the house. 

As it turned out, Eloise’s father was thrilled with the idea. Eloise could stay with her father, destiny would be satisfied or whatever, and Veko would get free food and lodging whenever he was around (which probably wouldn’t be for a very long time anyway). The only problem was that Eloise’s father seemed to take Veko “claiming” his daughter and home as... well... essentially Eloise settling down with the Witcher “to start a family”. Veko was mortified but Eloise just smiled and nodded, going along with what her father said until he looked away and giving Veko a look that meant under no uncertain terms would that _ever_ be happening. 

A few details still had to be hashed out, but Veko wanted nothing more than to get as far away from this town as possible. How the hell had a drowner contract produced this much trouble?

Later, Veko reunited with the Cat caravan and Hamra. His brother chuckled softly at whatever look was on Veko’s face, and when Hamra signed asking how his hunt was, Veko groaned. 

“Took out some drowners,” he said. “And... and Ham, I think... I think I got fucking _married_.” 

Hamra actually burst out laughing, the first time the smell of surprise and amusement replaced the sour guilt that hung to his brother like a cloud, and Veko couldn’t help but join him. 

Fuck the Law of Surprise, Veko thought. Never using that again.


	2. Beloved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next time Veko saw Eloise was just as bizarre as the first. Except this time, she ended up helping him as opposed to him saving her father again. It was, somehow, even more awkward.

The next time Veko saw Eloise was just as bizarre as the first. Except this time, she ended up helping him as opposed to him saving her father again. It was, somehow, even more awkward.

It was a few weeks of a full year later. What was supposed to just be one kikimora turned into a while nest, and despite this, the alderman barely wanted to pay him what he said he would for the one kill, let alone a whole cluster of them. He wouldn’t even let Veko inside. Luckily it had almost literally just stopped raining. But it was getting to the point where Veko was having to take a few calming breaths between the arguing; the alderman was a miserable prick, but Veko didn’t want to snap on the guy.

“You take what I give ye an’ be done with it!” the alderman shouted, reaching for the dagger at his belt. “Or you’ll get no coin and—“

“Husband!” a woman’s voice rang out. Veko and the alderman jumped; fucking rain and yelling, making Veko’s senses dull. A small force practically ran into him from the side and wrapped a hand around his elbow. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Uh—“

“Eloise!” the alderman exclaimed. Oh _shit_ , that’s where Veko knew her from! “Nothing t’ worry about, this Witcher was jus’ leaving.”

Eloise turned to Veko, pressing closer. “You were?” she asked, faking concern to apparently Veko’s ears only. “But darling, you just got here!”

Veko’s mind went totally blank. “Hello?” he said dumbly.

The alderman’s eyes narrowed. “What?” he hissed. “Eloise, this man—“

“Is my _beloved_ ,” Eloise cut in. The alderman’s mouth shut with an audible click. “Last year, don’t you remember? The Witcher that saved my father from those drowners!”

Veko continued to stare at her.

“But—“ the alderman stammered.

“Now what’s with all this shouting over here?” Eloise barreled on.

“I sent this Witcher here to kill the kikimora roamin’ about,” the alderman said.

Eloise gave Veko’s arm a little shake to snap him back into the conversation. “I, uh,” he stammered. “It wasn’t just one. There was a whole nest.”

Eloise clapped a hand over her mouth and gasped dramatically. “A _whole nest_!” she exclaimed, drawing the attention of the townspeople nearby. “My goodness! I’m so glad it’s been taken care of! Oh, Lennart, I don’t know what we would have done had a whole nest of those beasts descended upon the town!”

People were starting to whisper. The alderman—Lennart’s heart rate sped up. “Oh, well yes, I, eh, was good indeed.” He looked like he was trying to both glare at Veko and keep the shock of Eloise’s outburst off his face at the same time—and failing.

Eloise finally let go of Veko and took the alderman’s hands. “Do you need help with the coin?” she asked innocently. “For the additional kikimora? I know things have been _difficult_ since Nora left—“

“I can handle it!” Lennart exclaimed, eyes darting around at the growing mass of people who’d come to hear about the monsters. The alderman patted Eloise’s hands and laughed nervously. “I mean, that’s alright dear! I-I’ve plenty of coin for the Witcher here! Let me—I’ll go get it.”

Lennart raced back into his house and the crowd of people began to disperse, clearly boring of the now dwindling conversation. Veko was still not sure what the fuck just happened. But before he could ask, the alderman burst back outside and practically threw a pretty hefty sack of coin into Veko’s hands.

“Splendid!” Eloise exclaimed, and then turned to Veko one more. “Shall we go, darling?”

Veko nodded, letting himself be led away, once again, by this bizarre woman. But just before Lennart went back inside, Veko turned to him, held up the bag of coin, and winked. Lennart turned an ugly red and slammed the door behind him.

“Fucking weaselly prick,” Eloise hissed. Veko guffawed.

“Holy shit,” he said. “Where did you even come from? How did you find me? What—what the hell was that?!”

Eloise held up a hand and ticked answers off her fingers. “I was in town putting an order for paints in, saw your horse tied to a tree near the edge of town, and Lennart is a right prick but easy to exploit because of it. His wife Nora left a few weeks ago with some adventurer who came through town. She knew he’d been trying to bed any girl in sight and rightfully left.”

Veko pocketed the bag of coin. “Well I’m not going to complain,” he said.

Eloise tucked her hand into the crook of his arm again. “Are you planning on staying?” she asked. “Papa says it’s supposed to rain; he can feel it in his knees, he says.”

Veko started itching at his burns. “I, uh—“

“Right, coming with me then.”

Veko laughed again and Eloise guide the way.

——————————————————

For having apparently acquired Eloise and her home, this was the first time Veko had actually been inside. It was cozy, the walls painted a pale pink and yellow. The kitchen was warm and smelled amazing, Eloise having apparently left something cooking while she’d been out.

Peering into the next room, the apparent main room of the house, Veko found bottles of paints and an assortment of brushes set up at an easel against the far window (splattered in paint); blank canvases were piled behind it. But actually giving the room a look-around, his attention was immediately drawn to the walls lined floor to ceiling with the most beautiful paintings Veko had ever seen.

Landscapes of what Veko recognized as the local stream and the goat paddock out back, faces he didn’t recognize but could have started up a conversation with him with how real they looked, random assortments of everyday items put together to make some interesting structure—there was art everywhere.

Veko didn’t realize he was gaping until he heard Eloise chuckle. “Like what you see?” she asked.

“They’re amazing,” Veko replied, reaching towards a painting of a young boy.

“Don’t touch!” Eloise snapped; Veko jumped. “Sorry, sorry, they’re just—when they dry the colors fade of you touch them.”

“Sorry,” Veko said, shoving his hand into his pocket.

Eloise shook her head. “It’s always been a dream of mine to be a famous painter. Sometimes I get commissions or sell some in Oxenfurt. There’s a man who comes by to take them to market every now and then. Anyway, apparently my father went to bed early,” she said. “Stew?” Eloise chuckled. “I can paint a delicious meal but actually cooking it, eh…”

Now it was Veko’s turn to laugh. “I’d love some, whatever it tastes like,” he said. “And—thank you, for that shit with the alderman.”

Eloise waved him off. “Honestly? Bringing you up has been doing wonders around here,” she said.

As Veko sat down at the table, he remembered: “Did you call me husband?”

“How long ago was that and you’re just realizing that now?”

“In my defense, you came out of nowhere!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be this great warrior with heightened senses?”

Instead of answering, Veko leaned forward and smirked. “You think I’m _great_?”

Eloise stared at him for a moment before scoffing and shoveling a spoonful of soup into her mouth. “A great pain in my arse,” she said, “and you’ve only been here five minutes.”

“Might I remind you that you’re the one who dragged me here.”

“Yeah, because you looked like a bloody kicked puppy when I asked!”

“Kitten.”

Eloise blinked. “What?”

Veko tapped his medallion. “I’m from the School of the Cat, so I’d be a kitten.”

There was a moment of silence before Eloise let out a ‘ _PFFFT_!’ and burst out laughing. “Did you really just—“

“I can leave right now!” Veko exclaimed, but there was no heat behind it. Eloise’s laugh was loud and hoarse, hardly ladylike or cute, but for some reason Veko liked hearing it. He wanted to hear it again.

Eloise wiped tears from her eyes. “Just eat your stew, Witcher,” she said.

“Veko,” Veko said. “My name is Veko.”

“Veko,” Eloise repeated, like she was getting used to how it sounded. “Nice to officially meet you, husband.”

Veko started scratching his burns. “Oh _gods_.”

Eloise smacked his hand like she’d done last year. “Stop doing that,” she snapped. “You’re going to make it worse.”

“I’ve had it for fifteen years; I don’t think it’s going to get worse.”

Eloise was quiet. “How—? Never mind.”

“No, it’s ok,” Veko reassured her. “My brother and I got into a fight. Or something. I can’t remember. But it was an accident, either way.”

“Is your brother also a Witcher?”

Veko nodded, having just stuffed his face with stew again. “Yah,” he said, his mouth full. He swallowed. “Identical twins, actually. Though my hair’s longer and he’s a bit bulkier than I am. His name’s Hamra.”

“Veko and Hamra,” Eloise said, “twin Cat Witchers, huh?”

“Yes ma’am,” Veko replied. Over the course of the meal, Veko explained the basics about the Cats and their caravan, how they worked and why they occasionally split up. Eloise, for her part, only asking questions when he’d finished a story and let him talk most of the conversation. Normally, talking is what Veko was used to, but both times he’d been with this woman she’d shocked him into silence. It was nice to be comfortable again.

Night settled quickly and when they finished their respective meals, Eloise took both their bowls to wash. “I’m going to set a cot up for you,” she said over her shoulder.

“What, no bed?” Veko teased.

“Other than my father’s bed, there’s only one other and it’s mine,” Eloise replied.

“Not enough room for _husband and wife_?”

Eloise suddenly turned serious. Without even turning to him she said, “I’ll not _bed_ you, Witcher.”

Veko held his hands up in surrender, even though her back was still turned. “Ok,” he said softly. “Just messing around, sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you, truly.”

Eloise sighed deeply and finally turned to him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just. I don’t want that. From anyone, ever. It’s—it’s hard to explain. Just thinking about… that… makes me… extremely uncomfortable.”

Veko nodded. “I understand,” he said. “I mean, I don’t, but I respect that.”

Eloise smiled. “Thank you,” she said.

“Is that why me being your husband is useful?” Veko asked; Eloise’s heart rate sped up. “I don’t have a problem with that!” he quickly assured her. “It’s just, last year you said something to that effect.”

Eloise looked him in the eye for a moment, maybe trying to assess if he was telling the truth? And then nodded. “Yes.”

“Well, that’s no problem here,” Veko said. “Gods know I only really come through this area once a year. I could swing by to keep up appearances.”

“And I could help you bleed Lennart dry of all his coin.”

Veko smirked. “I like the way you think.”

Eloise smirked back. “I think this is going to be a very _successful_ partnership.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated!!


	3. Color

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, Veko wasn’t able to return to Eloise for a few more years. Between simply not being in the area, not having time between hunts, his brother Hamra almost being disemboweled one year, and his own injuries, he just hadn’t been able to make his way to her little town in Temeria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops! Guys I'm so sorry, I didn't realize I never uploaded the last chapter I'd already had written! This chapter has a few little Easter Eggs, like one of the goats. Also bonus points to anyone who figures out what Veko has! (I have it a bit as well)

Unfortunately, Veko wasn’t able to return to Eloise for a few more years. Between simply not being in the area, not having time between hunts, his brother Hamra almost being disemboweled one year, and his own injuries, he just hadn’t been able to make his way to her little town in Temeria.

This year, he was determined to go back, though he wasn’t sure why. He chalked it up to being able to stay somewhere comfortable, with actual good food, for free, but even he knew that was a flimsy excuse. Eloise fascinated him, for lack of a better word. She hadn’t been afraid of him—quite the opposite! From the get-go it was like she had tried to intimidate him, and godsdammit it worked. But she was so nice to him, and despite what she said, her food was quite good. Or maybe everything Veko had been eating recently was just that awful.

Veko swung down off of Nine—his new gray mare after Eight became wyvern food (rest in peace _you prick_ )—and hitched her to the fence post outside Eloise’s house. For some reason, he was nervous to see her again. Was it because it had been so long (for a human anyway) since he’d been here? He didn’t want her to think he wanted out of their deal or anything.

Veko brushed as much dirt and grime off of his armor as he could before knocking on the door. A moment later, it swung open and Eloise stared up at him with wide eyes.

Veko scratched his burns. “Uh, hello Elo—“

Eloise threw herself at him, arms around his neck. “Oh my gods!” she cried. “You _fucking prick_! Where have you been?!” Veko faltered for a moment before tentatively wrapping his arms around Eloise’s, but she immediately pulled back, giving him an icy glare. “Well?!”

“I, uh, I’ve been… busy,” Veko replied, but for some reason, Veko felt awful despite it being the truth.

“Busy!” Eloise exclaimed. Holy shit, she’d really been upset about this.

“I’m sorry,” Veko said, staring down at his boots. “I really am. And—and I really was busy. I don’t want you to think I was trying to get out of the deal or anything, cuz I wasn’t—“

“You think I’m upset because of the fucking deal?!” Eloise shouted. Veko blinked at her and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “For Melitele’s—get in here!”

Eloise pulled Veko into the house and slammed the door. Despite the few years that had gone by, not much inside had changed. There were more paint supplies strewn around the house than last time, but that was about it.  
Veko scratched his scars again and Eloise slapped his hand away. “Sorry,” he said automatically.

“I thought you were dead!” Eloise shouted, poking a finger into Veko’s chest. “You’re a bloody Witcher! That’s what happens, isn’t it? You fight monsters, and then you die. Well godsdamn you I thought you died!”

Veko was horrified when the salty smell of tears began tickling his nose; something must have showed on his face, because Eloise rubbed her eyes quickly, not letting any of them fall.

“I’m sorry,” Veko said again.

Eloise glared at him again before suddenly hugging him. “Fucking git,” she hissed. “Send a letter or something, at least! I don’t know how to get ahold of you but I’m always here!”

Veko hesitated again but hugged Eloise back. This time, she didn’t pull away. “Sorry,” he said into her hair. “Just, every time I was in the area, something would come up, or my brother was hurt, or I was too injured to travel—“

“Are you ok now?!”

“Oh yeah, all healed up now.”

“And your brother?”

Veko smiled sadly, remembering the blood on his hands and the horrifying look of resignation on Hamra’s face. “Touch and go for a bit, but yeah, he also made a full recovery. I just couldn’t leave him like that.”

Eloise finally pulled away and crossed her arms. “Well damn,” she grumbled. “How can I be mad at you now?”

Veko chuckled, feeling like a weight had lifted off of his chest.

—————

During lunch, Eloise filled him in on how things had been going since they’d seen each other. Lennart was still a bastard, but after being slapped in front of the gods and everyone by a lady at the tavern, he’d been officially removed from his position. A local woman had taken the title of alderwoman now, and things had been a lot better. A few of Eloise’s goats had had multiple babies, though a wolf problem last year had taken a few of them. She still had one of her original nanny goats, though, and apparently this particular goat was about as stubborn as they come.  
“She actually chased one of the wolves off, even!” Eloise explained. “Charged it head on. I’ve never seen a wolf roll like that in my life.”

“Remind me not to piss your goats off, then,” Veko chuckled.

Eloise seemed to pause for a moment. “I actually have to go feed them,” she said. “Plus, your horse has just been… well, outside tied to my fence. Come with me?”

So that was how Veko found himself leading his horse to the tiny barn behind Eloise’s house. He could see a couple goats that were obviously youngsters immediately rush over to the fence, bleating loudly. From within the barn, a huge tan goat trotted out and _fucking screamed_.

Veko flinched and even Nine pulled back. “Sorry, sorry,” Eloise said. “That’s Georgina. She’s… special.”

“I’ll say,” Veko grumbled. “This our wolf chaser?”

Eloise shook her head and pointed to another goat on the opposite side of the paddock. A little black thing, shorter than the others, with huge, curled horns. Eloise whistled and the goat immediately charged—and slammed horns first—into the fence.

“Ren,” Eloise said, crouching down to scratch the goat between the ears. “She’s harmless. Mostly.”

Veko looked at Nine and seemed to almost share a stare with the horse. A ‘ _can you believe this shit?_ ’ moment that got Veko chuckling despite himself.

“Whatever you say.”

Eloise led Veko and Nine into the barn and into a small empty stall. “This was my father’s horse’s stall,” she explained as Veko began undoing Nine’s tack.

“Where is your old man, anyway?” he asked as he heaved the saddle down.

Eloise looked away. “He, um,” she cleared her throat. “He passed, um, a few months after you left.”

Veko dropped the saddle. “Fuck,” he said. “I’m—I’m so sorry. Fuck, if I’d known—“

“Veko,” Eloise put a hand on his arm, “my father was sick. Even I didn’t realize how badly until a week before he went. But it was… it was peaceful, at least. I’d made him dinner, he wished me goodnight, and I found him in the morning.”

Veko honestly didn’t know what else to say. Death was a weird subject for Witchers, after all. He continued grooming Nine while searching desperately for something to say that wasn’t ‘ _sorry_ ’ again.

“Did he have… a funeral?” Veko asked. He could’ve slapped himself. Of course he had a fucking funeral.

Eloise seemed to sense Veko’s fumbling, because she smiled gently and nodded. “A very nice one, too,” she said. “I’ll go get some water for your horse.”

As Eloise walked away, Nine looked at Veko again. What was it with this horse? Veko pointed a warning finger in his face; Nine simply huffed and turned away. Somewhere, Hamra was laughing, Veko was sure of it. His brother had always had a good relationship with his horses.

Eloise returned a moment later with a bucket of water. Veko immediately took it from her and poured it into the empty trough.

“What’s her name?” Eloise asked. If he could blush, Veko would’ve been scarlet.

“Nine,” he said.

“‘ _Nine_ ’?” Eloise repeated. “Does that mean something in another language or like, the number?”

“The, uh, the number.”

Eloise slapped Veko’s hand as it reached for his scars. “Why?”

“She’s my… ninth horse.”

There was beat before Eloise burst out laughing. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Veko smirked to cover his embarrassment. “So I’ve been told.”

Eloise rolled her eyes and headed over to the opposite end of the barn. The far wall was lined with bales of hay. Before she could even reach for one, Veko rushed over and hoisted one over his shoulder. Eloise put her hands on her hips.

“You know I’ve been doing this for years even before you showed up, right?” And she had a point; what was wrong with him?

“I, uh,” he looked anywhere but at Eloise, trying to find an excuse. “I figured it’s… been a while since I’ve been here so I, uh, owe you. I guess.”

“Are you telling me or asking me?”

“Yes.”

Eloise laughed. “Ok then,” she said, heading back out of the barn. “I’ll get the gate at least.”

Veko followed Eloise to the paddock and held Ren by a leather strap around her neck while he made his way through the gate. The other goats immediately began following him. As soon as the hay hit the ground, the goats descended. Eloise let Ren go and the other goats parted to let her through.

“I never realized how scary goats were,” Veko said as Eloise latched the gate closed.

“To be fair, I have quite the herd of characters,” she replied. “Most people have a rooster to wake them at sunrise; I have Georgina and her screaming. Ren is like my own personal guard hound. Sometimes she gets out and chases off anyone who gets near the house. The others are still young, yet, but they’re slowly starting to show their personalities.”

“I’ll stick with horses, I think,” Veko said. “They’re enough trouble as it is.”

“Apparently!” Eloise laughed as she and Veko made their way back to the house. “Seeing as you’ve had nine of them!”

“This is a dangerous job!” Veko defended, but the tone was joking. “Plus in the grand scheme of things, nine horses hasn’t been a lot for how long I’ve been on the Path.”

Eloise’s brow furrowed. “How old are you?”

“Old.”

Eloise scoffed and started gathering some of her paints. Veko followed her into her art room, not sure what else to do at this point, and found the walls covered in different paintings than the last time he’d been here. One in an ornate frame was her father, exactly as real as if he was standing before them.

Eloise picked up a few leather straps from one of the tables. “Help me with something,” she said. “I’m going to repaint the goats’ collars and I don’t know what color to give who. I want _you_ to help me decide.”

“Ok?” Veko said, taking a seat. “Why?”

“Something you said to my father, when you saved him,” Eloise replied. “It always confused him. He told you he lived in the house with the blue roof and you said it suited him. Why?”

Veko went to scratch his scars, but instead balled his hand into the fabric of his pants. “Well, it’s, uh,” he hesitated. Of all things for that old man to focus on!

“My father was always fascinated with color,” Eloise said, as if sensing Veko needed a minute. “That’s how I got into painting. He was never content with something being the original color it was. Hence, the blue roof. He said that you saying the blue suited him kind of, I don’t know, validated him.”

Veko’s chest felt tight. Now he felt fucking terrible for not being here before. Maybe Eloise’s father would’ve understood, or at least found it interesting that—

Veko cleared his throat. “So, sometimes,” he began, staring down at his hands. “When I think of things, or names, or… well anything, really. I get these senses.” When he looked up, Eloise was enraptured. “Like, your father, just looking at him, the color blue came to mind. I don’t know why.”

“Just colors?”

Veko shook his head. “Smells, sometimes. Like when I think of you… I, uh, I think of the smell of your paints.”

“That’s… that’s fascinating, Veko,” Eloise said. “Tell me more?”

Veko gestured to the collars. “Well, you’re trying to figure out what color for what goat. As soon as you said Georgina, green came to mind. I don’t know why. And Ren is red, but not because the name and word are close. Uh, sometimes when I picture my supplies in my pack, I see them like they’re all laid out on the table, lined up side-by-side, despite the fact that I know damn well they’re a jumbled mess in my bag. And in my head, the order is always the same. I kinda do the same thing with months. I see them lined up like squares on a wall.” Veko grimaced. Fuck. “No, ‘see’ is the wrong word, cuz I don’t—I’m not hallucinating or anything!”

“I believe you,” Eloise said softly, taking one of Veko’s hands in hers. And she was telling the truth. Veko felt the tension in his body release.

“It’s weird, I know,” he said. “So I don’t normally say anything. When I was younger the trainers thought my head got fucked up by the mutagens but it’s just the way I’ve always been.”

“Does your brother have this too?”

“No,” Veko chuckled. “But he’s been the most receptive to it, even if he doesn’t understand it. Like, his favorite color is green, but when I think of him I think of like an indigo color. And I’m red, but I don’t know why.”

“What about me?” Veko met Eloise’s gaze and held it. The look on her face was one of honest curiosity and interest. She smiled at him and squeezed his fingers. “What do you see when you think of me?”

Veko swallowed. “I see turquoise, like the color your dress was the first time we met. I don’t know if it’s because that’s what you were wearing or what, but when I think ‘Eloise’ I think of that faint turquoise color.”

“Does it work for family names?”

“Sometimes. What is your full name, anyway?”

“Eloise Calold.”

Veko cocked his head to the side. “Yellow,” he said. “Calold is yellow.”

“But not because of anything I’m wearing,” Eloise said, gesturing to the paint-stained brown smock she was currently wearing.

“Guess not.”

“Veko,” Eloise breathed. “That is the most fascinating thing I’ve ever heard of. So you see colors? Or, think in colors? I wish I had that. I wonder how it would affect my art. I wonder how it would affect _your_ art.”

Veko pulled away and put his hands up. “Hey, whoa, who said anything about me being an artist?” he said.

Eloise laughed. “I bet you’re better than you think,” she said.

“I bet not.”

Eloise smirked. “Tell you what,” she said. “I’ll drop the subject if you do something for me.”

“Name it?”

“Let me paint you.”

Veko again was struck silent. She wanted to paint him? Apparently his mouth was hanging open, because Eloise tapped his chin to close it. “Why?” he managed.

“Because,” she replied. “We’re… friends. Or I like to think we are. And in case… in case something happens to you…” she gazed at the painting of her father, smiling down warmly at them, “I want you to be immortalized with him.”

What the fuck could Veko say to that? “Oh. Ok,” he said dumbly. “Uh. How do you want me?”

Eloise jumped up and ran for a blank canvas. “Whatever’s comfortable!” she called. “It takes a while.”

Veko just… sat there as Eloise began setting up. He turned this way and that, never quite settling, before Eloise huffed and dragged an armchair over. Veko abandoned the stool he’d been on and sat back into the warn leather.

“Better,” he said. He turned, scar facing away, and immediately Eloise’s hand reached out to turn him back. Her fingers grazed the puckered mess that was his cheek and he flinched.

“I’m sorry,” Eloise said gently. “I just—I want to see it.”

“Why?” Veko whispered.

“Because it’s a part of you,” Eloise replied. “And gods know I’ve kept you from scratching it enough.”

There was a moment where neither of them said a word. Veko’s heart sped in his chest like it hadn’t in many years. Eloise gazed over his burn scars and gently brushed her fingers over them again. Veko didn’t flinch this time, but just barely. Her fingers were cool against the phantom heat of his burns, and as she traced the expanse of them along his jaw, he couldn’t hold back the full-body shiver the touch elicited.

Eloise pulled back and Veko scrambled to find something to say before she said anything else about them. “So—so how does this work?” he asked. “I, uh, I just sit here?”

Eloise nodded and finally pulled back. “Yes,” she said, not meeting his gaze. Now that he was out of his own head, Veko could hear her heart hammering in her chest. “Just, um, get comfortable, relax, and um, don’t… don’t move, if you can help it.”

Veko grinned. “Ok.” Eloise nodded and began mixing a few paints.

Veko just… watched her. As brush met paint and paint met canvas, he could almost see the cogs turning in her head. Instead of sticking her tongue out, like he’d heard some artists do, she made faces. A stroke here and her mouth pinched to the side; stroke there and her mouth opened in a little ‘o’.

Veko wanted to slip into meditation, as that would be the best way to sit still for her, but he found he just couldn’t. As much as Eloise was watching him for her painting, he wanted to watch her. He couldn’t help but think of the last time they’d seen each other, and what he thought of her then. She wasn’t all that attractive, merely plain by any standards. Her laugh was unladylike and jarring. She intimidated him. She swore. She—

She made him dinner. She let him sleep in her home. She told him stories and listened to his in turn. She wanted his opinions. She found his mental crap fascinating. She worried for him. She cried for him!

She called them _friends_.

As Veko sat, watching Eloise paint his portrait, a warm weight settled in his gut. He didn’t want to leave in the morning. Hells, he didn’t want her to ever finish this bloody painting. And although emotions aren’t exactly a Witcher’s strong point, he had a sinking suspicion that what he was feeling…  
Fuck.


End file.
